


Kanon

by Tsuyu



Category: James Bond - Fandom, Skyfall - Fandom
Genre: M/M, and Skyfall, and scorpion, blame Daniel Craig, so this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuyu/pseuds/Tsuyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James contemplates life. Things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kanon

It was the end. Nothing really mattered any longer. Bond sat in the dark apartment. It still had things Q left the very same morning scattered around. Some things never changed. MI6 was a dangerous place to have as one's employer and having a double oh agent for a boyfriend was even more dangerous. 

A glass hitting a wall and silent tears rolling down one's cheeks. That's what was left of the life they shared together. What's the point of loving if one is still going to end bitter and alone anyway? 

A lock clicking shut. Nobody is going to sweep glass shards into a trash bin. Nobody is going to care for dust settling over bookshelves or laptops or expensive suits left strewn about the spacious rooms. 

An empty photo frame. It was the only thing that was missing from the flat. And a personalized gun. The holster by the bed was empty. 

***

The thrill of adrenaline rush. Many said it's been a mistake. Yes, drinking with the locals and a scorpion on one's hand might be considered a mistake. But what did he even have to lose? 

Certainly not his life. That wasn't his own to begin with. It always belonged to Queen and England. 

Wrong! It belonged to Q. 

After Vesper he swore he was never going to let another so close to his heart. He haven't noticed the exact moment the young man sneaked into his heart with his snarky and witty remarks, with personalized guns and exploding pens. He only noticed more and more gadgets lying strewn on his model kitchen table. Keats poems on his empty bookshelves. Cardigans next to his bespoke suits. And curls almost in his mouth. A sheepish smile and a whispered sorry early in the mornings while he was staying in London. 

***

A trigger being pulled was the last sound he heard. One of his enemies finally got to him. He wasn't reckless. He was just too tired to live on a time stolen from others. And this time he didn't try to outrun lady death.

***

"Hello, James..."

Hand caressing his cheek. Soft and warm.

"Hello, Gabriel..."

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying out a new writing technique. Probably fucked up with people's brain (again). *sigh* comments, diamonds and platinum feed my muse!


End file.
